Social Distance

The entire world has changed in the few weeks since I last wrote. Well, the world outside the bubble that is my home and land, at least. I’m sure you’re already aware, but the pandemic known as the Coronavirus has swept through nearly every continent. Much of the world is in lockdown, with officials recommending self-quarantine to stop the spread. Aside from the panic-buying at grocery stores and not being able to see my friends, my life hasn’t been too different (yet). Mushers tend to be socially distant by the nature of our lifestyle. Thankfully, I have a job that’s already remote and focuses on subscription based e-commerce, which hasn’t taken much of a hit (yet). Things are stable and I should be okay.

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In homestead news, I was able to secure three 8-month-old Barred Rock pullets from a farm about an hour away. Right now, chicks are available almost everywhere, but hens about to lay are much harder to find. As it turns out, people have begun panic-buying them, too. The three new girls have been acclimating to their surroundings and seem pleased with their Eglu coop. They’ve lived their entire lives in a stall inside a barn, so the outside world is certainly overwhelming them at this point. I’m hoping in another week they’ll be more at ease and maybe I’ll have some fresh eggs soon.

Along with the chickens for future eggs, I’ve planted lots and lots of seeds for future vegetables. My windowsills are beginning to overflow with squash, zucchini, peppers, tomatoes, and various other little sprouts. I spent a Saturday assembling four raised beds to be the seedlings’ home in a few weeks. I’d like to eventually rip up a portion of the front yard, till the soil, and plant directly into the ground, but I’m not quite there yet. I also ordered some fruit trees and berry bushes from the Arbor Day Foundation—I wonder when they’ll show up.

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Another big addition to the homestead has been my ATV. I was debating whether or not I’d actually need one, especially after learning my mortgage and property taxes would be increasing, adding a bit of pressure to my monthly budget. I lucked out and found a machine in mint condition being sold by a friend of a friend (thanks, Tim!) just a few miles down the road. Part of my trepidation in buying was not really knowing much about ATVs, but purchasing one from someone I can easily reach out to eased my nerves.

So far, I’ve used the ATV to move the raised beds into their spots, run the dog team, and clean up trails after a wind storm. We even got another quick blast of snow, which was a perfect opportunity to test the ATV with the dogs, as there wasn’t enough snow to safely use the sled, but too much to run with the Arctis cart. The ATV also came with a giant plow, which should come in handy next winter!

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The dogs have been doing excellent with the ATV. I was worried the “softer” dogs would be spooked by the motor, but everybody is just happy to run, as usual. The ATV is going to be really useful for keeping the team at a steady pace, which will be important for mid-distance training this fall. For now, we’re just working on short, fun runs with the puppies. Temperatures have been mostly cold as of late, but I’m splitting time between running the dogs (usually three times a week) and spring projects.

Hoping things will get better soon, but for now, stay busy and stay home, friends.

Warmer Days

I write this as warm temperatures and rain begin eating away at our snowpack. We’re nearing 300 miles for this season, which is good compared to last year’s 175, but no where near the 500 miles I had hoped for. It’s frustrating. Mid-distance and distance kennels run that distance over the course of a week. They run races as long as my entire training season. 

There are a lot of factors that limit what we do. I’m running this team on my own while working a full-time job. The weather has sucked. It’s not as easy to build up miles in the northeast compared to the midwest and Alaska. Don’t get me wrong, I have some amazing trail systems here, but they require repeating loops to get more miles. The dogs get bored.

This season also saw Denali and Knox slowing down slightly, while Laika picked up speed. I don’t want to push the older dogs beyond their comfort zone, so we stayed at their pace. Now that our racing season is over, I’m focusing on training Sagan and Hopper to run with the team. Since they’re still young, we’ve been doing short, slow runs. They’re mainly learning the hookup procedure, how to maneuver around the lines, and what commands mean. This works well for the older dogs, too, but it also means I’m no longer building up miles for the core team (Willow, Laika, Blitz, Hubble). If I had more time, I’d run the older dogs and puppies, and then do longer runs with the other four. But, ah, time is flying.

Next season I will push for longer miles. The older dogs can join us for short runs around the property, but I’ll be taking the younger six out to Winona as much as possible. The goal is our first mid-distance race (a modest 30-miler), so we’ll need the practice. But the sights I had been setting for 50 or even 100 milers seem less possible with my current location, resources, time, and energy.  Oh, and climate change doesn’t help.

You know though? That’s OK. I don’t think I need it.

I realized while out on a short, trail-breaking run this weekend—I don’t have to justify having a sled team by going certain distances or competing in prestigious races. We were traveling slow and I wasn’t looking at the speedometer or checking our distance. I was smelling the pines and watching the dogs working together. They were happy and so was I. That’s the reason for all of this. That’s more than enough. 

March means springtime, my least favorite time of year. Mushing season dwindles down. The beautiful snow melts into endless mud. Everything is cold, but not too cold, and forever damp. The awful, biting flies return. 

Instead of moping, I’m filling my time with more projects. Last season’s focus was getting up the play yard. This year I can zero in on turning this property into the homestead I’ve always wanted. I’ve got a chicken coop in my garage waiting to be assembled. There’s materials for four large raised gardens on the way.

Then there’s the usual end-of-season chores. The dog carts need to be power washed and brake pads replaced. The sled needs to be tidied up. The dog truck and van need deep cleaning, inside and out. There’s a season’s worth of dirt and debris that needs to be blown and swept from the barn and garage. The snowmobile and snowblower will be “summer-ized”, the ride-on mower will be prepped for duty. 

The cycle continues. And we’ll keep on rolling on.

The Tug Hill Challenge

The dogs and I had a hell of a weekend out in the forest! We attended the PSDC’s Tug Hill Challenge race, which is held about 20 minutes north in the Winona State Forest. Here’s the play by play, from what I can remember.

Friday

I took off work to give myself ample time to prepare our gear and the house for the weekend. My sister, Brianna, and her fiancé, Seth made their way up from New Jersey to help me out at the race, so that also meant picking up some groceries and making sure the guest room was tidy. There was also about 3” of snow on the driveway to clear, laundry to wash, and other weekend chores I wouldn’t have time for. Everything got done and we were ready for an anxious night of sleep around midnight. 

Saturday

On day one, conditions were basically perfect for a race. I believe the truck temperature gauge read about -2°F as we made our way to CCC Camp, where the race was being held. I had prepared a giant thermos full of coffee, which I poured out into one of my Best Made camp mugs. Within a few minutes it was frozen solid, so that was a short-lived plan. Thankfully my gear did its job and I stayed mostly warm.

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First up was the 8 AM driver’s meeting, where the club went over rules and what to expect out on the trail. I peaked around the room and saw lots of familiar faces, which is really one of the main reasons to attend these races. There aren’t many people doing this weird hobby, especially in the northeast, so it’s invigorating to have others around who are as passionate about the sport as I am. I’m especially grateful for the group of women mushers I’ve found, the support they give one another, and the caliber of care they provide their dogs. Truly an inspiring bunch and I’m honored to call them friends.

After the driver’s meeting, I collected my bib. We were number 30, first out the chute in the 6-dog class. My class (along with 8-dog and skijor) would run a 6.4 mile course each day of the race, the longest trail out of all the classes, but still considered a sprint distance. The class itself was broken up into three other classes: registered breed (purebred dogs with papers), all breed, and sportsman/woman (lower entry fee/no prize money). Five out of my six (Denali, Willow, Blitz, Hubble, and Laika) are registered purebred Siberian Huskies, but Knox is a rescue with no papers, so we ran in all breed. This has pros and cons—we’re up against the super speedy Eurohound mixes, which we really have no chance of beating. However, in this race, there were only three teams in the all breed, so we were guaranteed placement. In total, there were 15 entries between the three classes within 6-dog. A really awesome turnout!

Our chute time was 10:45 AM and it was in the teens, which tends to be my dogs’ favorite temperature. My “handlers” (Brianna and Seth), along with other mushers and spectating friends made sure we got to the starting chute right on time. First out meant we weren’t chasing anybody, but the dogs could definitely smell the previous class and were amped regardless. 

Photo by Wendy

The trail was hard and fast, and the dogs exploded out the chute. I had a professional team of hounds starting a minute behind me, and my first goal was to get the dogs through the first leg of trail (which culminates in a downhill into a sharp turn—right where spectators can see the action) before the other team caught us. It took longer than I anticipated for the hounds to reach us, and when they did, my gang handled the pass very well. The only thing they could’ve improved was moving to the right of the trail a bit more, but they all had good manners as the other dogs made their way by. After the pass, we chased the speedy team a bit, which definitely contributed to the dogs’ speed for the day. I looked down at our speedometer and the dogs were clocking 14-16 MPH for the first four or five miles, which is spectacular for them. 

We got passed by another speedy team, and the dogs were fairly amped up until the last mile or so. We hit a wide trail that was exposed to the sun, and I could tell they were getting warm. Laika got her neckline wrapped around her leg, so I stopped to untangle her, which the team seemed to appreciate and took the opportunity to eat snow. I let them go slow, knowing the last bit of trail had some uphills that they’d need energy for.

Photo by John Knittel

By the last half mile, Knox was definitely running out of steam and Denali was trotting, which caused Laika to tangle in her tugline. I let the dogs pause in a shady spot and soaked up the moment with them, knowing in a few minutes they’d be running towards a crowded finish line.

Our first day finish wasn’t the cleanest, as Laika got spooked by the crowd. In her defense, there were kids spilling into the trail that shouldn’t have been there, which caused her to go over the center line and shove Knox over. Despite her shyness, we made it through, into the crowd, and back to the truck without any problems.

Photo by Melissa

We completed the 6.4 mile trail in 27 minutes, 55 seconds on day one. This put us in 7th out of 15 teams, a very respectable run for the gang.

The rest of the day was a blur of helping other mushers, talking to friends who came to spectate, shoveling a hot dog into my face, and tending to the dogs. Later, we met up with a wonderful crew at the Ponderosa for dinner, and reveled in our successful runs.

Sunday

Stepping outside the morning of day two was like stepping into an entirely different season. Temperatures were already nearing 30 degrees before dawn, which would mean softer trail and slower dogs. My main concern was Knox. If he was sore from day one, or if temperatures were too warm for him to enjoy himself, I was prepared to drop him. Luckily, the day remained overcast and snowy, which kept things feeling fairly cold. Our chute time was 40 minutes earlier than the previous day, which helped us get out while things were still below freezing. 

Knox seemed excited and didn’t show any signs of soreness, so he stayed on the team for day two. The only change I made was to swap Laika and Denali, since Laika is faster and could use the experience leading in a race. She’s also unlikely to tangle in lead with Willow. My only concern was whether she’d be confident enough to run through the crowded finish line.

We were the seventh team out this time, since our starting order was the order we placed on day one. The speedy hounds were down the trail long before us, and we were nestled among other mostly Siberian teams from what I could tell. My strategy for day two was to keep the dogs at a slower pace, not wanting them to get too warm or to expel all their energy too early. They still went fast—my speedometer read about 12-14 MPH—but I didn’t let them go all out. We caught up to the team ahead of us a few miles in, and I decided not to try and overtake them. We’d have to maintain a faster speed to stay ahead of them, and I figured the dogs would benefit from a team to chase.

Photo by Christine

Midway through the race, another team came up and passed us, which the dogs handled perfectly. Laika kept the team pinned to the right of the trail, which gave the other team plenty of room to get by us. We watched the two teams ahead leap frog each other a few times, but we didn’t get close enough to pass them at any point. They also appeared to get in a small tangle, so we kept a healthy distance to avoid adding to the problem. 

The last leg of the trail went similarly to the previous day. The snow was softer and the uphills were tough, but Laika and Willow kept us moving forward. Again, I paused a few times to take in our surroundings and to thank the dogs for being perfect. Knox and Denali, despite turning nine later this year, kept up with the youngsters. Blitz and Willow were flawless. Laika, though nervous, shines in harness. Hubble, who I worried about being reactive with other dogs, watched three teams pass, and even stop alongside us briefly, without batting an eye. They did exactly what they were supposed to do and I couldn’t be happier with their performance.

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Little Laika powered through her shyness and brought us into the finish line with Willow, 31 minutes and 27 seconds after we started. In total, we ran 12.8 miles in 59 minutes, 22 seconds and placed 8th out of 15 teams. We received third in all breed and even a bit of prize money (basically earning back our entry fee). But it’s not about money or the ranking, it’s about putting my trust in these dogs, their heritage, and our training. 

My goal this weekend was to give the dogs race experience, both on the trail and at the truck. I hoped for clean runs and finishing each day in under 40 minutes, which we managed to smash. Compared to other teams comprised of purebred Siberians, we held our own. I can’t wait to see what next season brings and what we’ll be accomplishing a year from now. 

Dwindling Down

We’ve made it to February, which usually means two more solid months of mushing (if we’re lucky) before spring takes hold. Time is flying by, probably because we haven’t been hit with major snowstorms all winter. About half a foot has fallen today, though, so there’s still hope for the remainder of the season.

Sagan had her first hookups, first with a small team (all the girls!) and then with the active 6-dog team. I’ve never run a string with seven before. It’s been fun and challenging during these first short runs together. Our first time out was flawless and immediately got me thinking about an 8-dog team instead of focusing on just six.

Thankfully, the proceeding runs knocked me back to reality. Every dog adds a level of complexity and a new potential point of failure for the team. There’s another set of paws to booty or tangle in lines. There’s another mouth to bite a neckline or their running mate. There’s more length on the gangline to turn around at dead-ends. There’s more power to consider when holding the team back. Since I’m training and caring for these dogs alone, a team of six is plenty to focus on for the foreseeable future.

That said, I’ll definitely continue running Sagan with the big team for short runs. At the end of this month, I’ll add Hopper in as well, but we’ll keep things easy going. As for the main team, our sights are set on Tug Hill next weekend. We managed to get a very cold (-7°F), seven mile run in at the Winona trails, so the dogs should be ready for the race. I have my usual pre-sprint race anxiety to deal with, but I’ll get over it. The goal isn’t to win, I just want clean runs and happy dogs. 

Tug Hill will be the conclusion of our races for this season. I would’ve liked to get the dogs more experience, but the northeast is an increasingly tricky place to run dogs. With Knox and Denali slowing down and new pups to train up, this season didn’t get us quite as far as I had hoped. Still, three races is better than zero. We probably won’t reach my goal of 500 miles, but we’re already 75 miles beyond what we ran all of last season. By this time next year, we will hopefully be preparing to compete in the Can-Am Crown 30. We’re well on our way.

Trying

It’s been hard to find the motivation to write about mushing lately, because mushing itself has been less than perfect this season. It’s January and we should be (consistently) on sleds here in the north country. Instead, there’s been frequent warmups, unfrozen ground, and partially-frozen ponds across our trails. We can only go so far on our home trail with the dryland cart, so we’ve been repeating loops to try and gain miles. This is boring for the dogs and for the musher. 

Right now, we’re focusing on the Tug Hill Challenge in February as our final race goal for this season. As much as I wanted to try mid-distance, I know it’s not within reach for us yet. Instead, I rather make sure to end Knox and Denali’s racing careers on a high note. While I’m sure they’ll continue running to some degree next season, I expect their younger teammates to handle the bulk of our big goals.

Tug Hill will be a poetic bookend in a lot of ways. I attended this race a decade ago, before I even had my first husky. It’s what brought me to the north country. It’s where I saw friends and mentors race their teams, back when I just had Dexter and a dream. I’ve wanted to run six dogs since the very beginning. It took some time, but here I am. I’ll have Denali, my first husky, lead us through Winona Forest in our first snow race. Knox, my second husky and a rescue dog, will be right behind her.

If all goes well, this will give the younger dogs more race experience and it’ll be a thank you to my older dogs, for seeing this whole adventure through.

Okay, enough sappiness for now. Aside from races, I’ll be pushing to reach 500 miles for the season. The fact that we somehow managed 400 miles on the rocky, miserable trails in SoCal is weighing on me. Of course, it’s about quality and not quantity, and the dogs and I are much happier here. It’ll take work to get another 300 miles before spring, but I’m hopeful we can do it. Just keep on trying.

Goals

Somehow, it’s already late November. We’ve had lows in the single digits and a little bit of snow. It’s cliche to say, but I feel like just yesterday I was swimming in Lake Ontario and kayaking in the Salmon River reservoir. Around this time last year, we were recovering from our second major snowfall in the North Country. After that storm, things were relatively calm until the new year. Temperatures right now have been hovering just above freezing, with warm days ahead.

The team is doing well, but I’m apprehensive about sending in a Can-Am Crown 30 entry. Our goal for this season is a mid-distance race. We need to put on more miles and pick up our pace a bit. My home trail is full of sections that aren’t safe for fast speeds on the rig, due to rocks, roots, and tight corners around trees. Once there’s a nice base layer of snow, we’ll be able to cut loose with the sled.

In the mean time, we have plenty of other things to work on. We finally did some passing training with other mushers this past weekend. Roy Smith ran a few teams of his sporty stag hounds and Jordan Rode joined us with his solo husky for some bikejoring. It’s been so long since my dogs have had time out with other teams, I really didn’t know what to expect. I figured most of them would be fine, but Hubble has been my wildcard, Knox can be rude, and Denali has a habit of turning around to watch other teams approaching.

The main trail we started on was a sheet of ice, so brakes weren’t really an option unless we kept the teams all the way on the shoulder. Once we made it onto side trails, things shaped up and we did some leap-frog style passing. I kept a Baskerville muzzle on Hubble just in case he was snappy, but he showed very little interest in interacting with the other teams—ideal! Knox, on the other hand, shoved himself towards Roy’s dogs a couple times and barked. Luckily, he didn’t make contact or start any fights. Denali turned around to watch the teams when they were coming up behind us, but only for the first few minutes. After awhile, she got over it, and seemed eager to stay in the lead. It’s funny how the younger dogs (Laika, Hubble, Blitz, and Willow) were all perfect. I didn’t have to worry or correct them at all. It’s a good sign for the future of my team. I just have to hope that when Sagan and Hopper take over for Denali and Knox, they continue the good-behavior trend.

All in all, we did a handful of passes with Roy’s 6-dog teams and his ATV, as well as one pass with Jordan on his bike. Exposure to other teams also means other training tools—carts, ATVs, bikes, etc.—so I’m happy to see my dogs weren’t spooked by the ATV’s noise. Roy and I also stopped our teams side by side for a few seconds, and the dogs were mostly good. We avoided a potential squabble and kept moving, and the dogs ran very close together without a problem.

The only downside of the day came from an angry hunter. When we set out, there was a truck parked directly at the opening of the side trail we were planning to return on. We assessed and figured we could make our way around it without any issue, so we mushed on. When we made it back, another truck was parked perpendicular to it. We had enough room to pass on the right, but when we did, one of the hunters asked me something. I couldn’t quite hear and with Roy’s team coming up behind me, I tried to slow down enough to hear her without stopping, and the team pulled the rig up against one of their trucks. We didn’t crash into it or scrape it, but we did push against the bottom plastic part of the bumper. I kept moving and the truck’s owner came out in a huff.

Once I got the dogs settled at my own truck, I went back over to apologize for the chaos and made sure I didn’t do any damage (I knew I hadn't). It was abundantly clear that this particular hunter was pissed off at us for being there and not for touching his truck. I get it—it is hunting season. This is why I generally avoid running in the state lands this time of year, and especially on weekends. We very intentionally planned our run for late morning, knowing most hunters are out around dawn and dusk. My own neighbor politely asked that I run midday on our land so he can hunt, which I’m happy to oblige. What I don’t like is the implication that I shouldn’t be in the forest at all. I should note that the other hunters I spoke to were kind and actually interested in seeing the Tug Hill Challenge in February.

Despite this one bad interaction, the people of the North Country have taken me in as one of their own. Roy and his friend, Tom, came by and helped get my snowmobile running. My Twitter friends, Amanda and Jennifer, are planning a weekend in Saranac Lake this winter and I can’t wait. Niki, my fellow North Country newbie, has extended her ever-growing friend circle to me, and now I have plans for Thanksgiving. There’s a lot to be grateful for in this weird and wild place.

Mud Mush

This weekend marked the first ever NY State Dryland Challenge—a winding, 2.2 mile sprint race held by the Pennsylvania Sled Dog Club in musher Steven Davis’s backyard. While I’m trying to move away from sprint races, I still need to give the dogs race experience and exposure if we’re going to be attending longer races in the future. This event was less than two hours from me, so I figured I better give it a shot.

Photo by Niki English

I debated running Hubble right up to the night before the race. ISDRA rules state that dogs cannot wear muzzles, so that option was out for him. My start time was towards the middle of the class, with speedier teams both in front and directly behind me. There was a good chance I’d get passed, and it would be the first time Hubble would be in that scenario. Since he’s been defensive around dogs he doesn’t know, I figured this wasn’t the best way to introduce him to races. The game day decision was to leave him in the van and run five (Denali, Willow, Knox, Laika, and Blitz) in the 6-dog class.

Photo by Niki English

Photo by Niki English

Day one of the race was pretty smooth-sailing for my little team. We had a solid run, although by our start time (around 11:30 AM), it was sunny and nearing 50°F. Knox was definitely feeling it, so I didn’t push them too hard. Thankfully (?) there was plenty of mud and water on the trail, so that helped cool them off. No one passed us on day one, but there were some sections of trail where you could see a team on another part of the course, which definitely peaked my gang’s interest.

Photo by Donna Quante

The second day was a bit colder, but I think the mud got… muddier? A day of bikes, rigs, scooters, and ATVs definitely didn’t help the situation. Our start time was a bit later, but we still had a speedy team positioned behind us out the chute. The run itself was mostly fine, though Knox did take a brief second to poop. We got passed a few minutes into running, and the dogs were pretty shocked to see another team suddenly appear. Knox did a scary bark and nobody listened when I called to “gee-over” (move to the right of the trail), but the team got by us without a tangle or altercation, so I’m mostly relieved. I knew we needed passing training for Hubble, but the entire team could use a refresher.

Photo by Niki English

Photo by Niki English

We finished in 10 minutes, 48 seconds on day one and 10 minutes, 27 seconds on day two. That works out to roughly 12 mph, which is awesome, since we’ve been training to run at a sustained 10 mph pace. Our combined time put us at 9th place out of 11 teams, which isn’t very impressive, but that’s just fine with me. This race was all about gaining positive experiences. Besides, I don’t really expect to place when competing in sprint against speedy hound teams.

Photo by Niki English

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Photo by Niki English

Speaking of positive experiences—my favorite part of the weekend was hanging out with other dog-loving humans. Along with fellow mushers, several central NY friends I’ve made through Bumble BFF and Twitter came to spectate each day, which was a delightful surprise. I’ve grown so used to pursuing this hobby alone. It’s comforting to find a sense of community here, especially if I plan on staying in the North Country for the long haul. (Which I do!)

Photo by Niki English

We don’t have any races planned until the Tug Hill Challenge in February, but there’s a ton of work to be done between now and then. Hopefully starting soon, we’ll be working on passing training with Roy Smith’s team of hounds. I’ll be visiting New Jersey for Christmas and New Years, and plan to do the New Year’s Day training meetup in the Pine Barrens, my old stomping grounds. Along with gaining experience with other teams on the trail, I want to boost our runs to 20 miles or so by January. Fingers crossed for steady but manageable snow storms, patient dogs, and a season unlike anything we’ve done before.

First Race

It’s been two years since my dogs were in a race. I’ve written before about how sprint races aren’t really my thing—I much rather just run my dogs casually, without the speed and competition. That said, I do want to try some longer races, in the 20 to 30 mile range. In order to prepare for such events, my dogs don’t just need to increase their endurance and learn to pace their speeds. They also need to learn about getting to the starting line, passing other teams, and resting when other dogs are nearby. These are all skills that I can’t teach them alone. The older dogs have raced before and they’re very good with the rigmarole a race entails. They’ve also trained with other dogs in the Pine Barrens, back before the move to CA and NY. The younger dogs, especially Hubble and Laika, are new to everything.

Earlier this month, I attended the Northern New England Sled Dog Trade Fair. My goal was to get the dogs back into an environment with lots of distractions (both human and canine). We parked and set up camp at a far corner of the camping field, just close enough to see other teams without being right on top of them. There’s a fun, 0.8 mile race the final morning of the fair, and I debated whether we’d run it. Hubble and Blitz’s paws were healed from their recent great escape, but I’ve been apprehensive about Hubble’s behavior with unknown dogs. He definitely needs work, but that also requires exposure to get him there. Laika has never been in a race environment before, and with her fear of new people, I wasn’t sure how she’d do. But, again, exposure is the only way to get through it.

I thought about running a team of four (Denali, Willow, Knox, and Blitz) like I did two years prior, but I decided to enter the 6-dog class—my first time running six in a race! I brought Hubble’s Baskerville muzzle with us, which allows him to pant and drink but not snap at a passing team, so I felt fairly certain we’d be OK. I also made sure we were last out the chute, so no one would be passing us. As it turns out, the teams all completed the trail so quickly, there was barely any passing at all.

The toughest part of the race was just getting the team to the starting line and waiting while the four other teams went out ahead of us. Thankfully I had help while we waited, and the dogs behaved themselves. Laika was very brave around all the excitement. The joy she has for mushing seems to override her fear of strangers. Hubble made a few angry grunts at leashed dogs walking by us, but he seemed more concerned with his pulling duties.

The race itself was smooth and flawless. There were a few tricky spots along the trail where I could see teams veered the wrong direction, but my gang listened to my commands. They came through the finish and we made our way back to the van without any problems. In the end, we placed third out of five, which I was not expecting at all. (The competition in sprint races is fierce!)

Of course, the other reason I attended the trade fair was to scoop up Sagan, our first Alaskan Husky team member. I’ll have to write another blog post, later, to talk about the differences between raising purebred Siberians versus Alaskans, but for now I’ll say she’s incredibly sweet, capable of being VERY loud, 50% legs and 50% ears. Although the thought of Denali and Knox retiring breaks my heart, I’m very excited to see what my team will look like in the coming years.

Ready

Lately, I’ve written a lot about leaning into the mushing lifestyle. About really pursuing this hobby that I’ve been juggling with a “regular” life for almost a decade. That’s what brought me to rural central New York, right in the lake effect snow belt. It pulled me away from the comfort of past relationships, friends, and family. It didn’t always feel like the best decision, but now that the dust has settled, it feels right. I’ve got a house that feels like home, an expanding circle of friends, and some very good dogs.

The funny thing is, I started writing this post from a hotel suite in Santa Monica. It was 75°F and sunny, but all I could think about were trees changing color and mornings where you could see your breath. I’m still juggling a double life, while I can. Traveling for work is a blessing and a curse. It’s fun and exhausting, stressful and a relief in its own way.

Los Angeles might be the exact opposite of where I live. It’s consistently warm, always noisy, and full of traffic. The strangest part about travel is all the time I have (outside of work) that I’d normally spend tending to the dogs. It’s weird to have no living things rely on me, except maybe a drunk coworker.

I always come back to how grateful I am to have my family to watch the dogs while I’m flying all over the place. Realistically, though, it’s a burden I can't put on them forever. I need to embrace these brief travel opportunities. I’ll be leaving the eastern timezone one last time next month, for my friend’s wedding in Seattle. After that, I’m staying as put as possible until work pries me away again.

Looking ahead, I see temperatures dipping into the 30’s in the extended forecast. I’ve got wood stacked in the garage and the fall furnace checks completed. The propane tanks have been filled. My home trails have been (mostly) cleared. I’ve got my sights set on pups to add to the team (yes, plural—more on that later), new trails to train on, and races to enter. I’ve got the snowmobile ready to pack snow and keep the team moving.

I’ve got big plans. I’m ready.

Descending into Autumn

July is behind us, along with the peak of the summer’s heat. We’re on the descent now, trending downward into the cooler days of autumn. I feel it, the dogs feel it, and the energy build up is palpable. The dogs have been less satisfied to sunbath and lounge. The dog-den couch has suffered several de-stuffings and re-stuffings as a result.

Last weekend, I managed to coordinate a mini-getaway with friends. I’m grateful to be back on the east coast, where I can drive my dogs down to Jersey if I need to travel, but spending just a night away is harder to plan. I don’t have anyone local I trust to watch the dogs. Thankfully, my parents like visiting (and escaping the NJ 90°F heat) and agreed to dog-sit up here for me. I was able to venture east for the first overnight camping trip I’ve had in a long awhile.

Before heading out to camp, I was feeling particularly guilty. I’d be missing the first 50°F morning of the season. (The general rule for mushing is “below 50°F and the temperature plus humidity should not exceed 100”) As I was preparing for my parents’ arrival, a cold front swept through, bringing with it a chilly wind and cold drizzle. It was still too warm for our typical fall training, but a quick 1/2 mile jaunt around the trails I’ve been mowing wouldn’t hurt.

The dogs were ecstatic, as they tend to be when they see the harnesses come out. They were so happy to lope around the property, winding through the wildflowers and grass three times their height. The mowed trails are slightly different from what we ran last season and you could see the excitement in their body language. By the end of the run, the older dogs were satisfied. The younger dogs would’ve happily kept going, but I wouldn’t risk them overheating. More soon, babes.

As summer inches into fall, there will be more travel—a bachelorette in Texas, a wedding in Washington, and visits to New Jersey to see old friends. In the meantime, I’ve prepped my mountain bike for bikejoring runs in the mornings and evenings. I plan to take each dog out, solo and in pairs, to help reinforce commands and get them ready for the season ahead. Laika is nearly 7-months-old, and I’ll start her off with some easy canicross runs in the adjustable puppy x-back harness before trying her out on a small team.

Late summer feels like being a kid on Christmas Eve. Mushing season is Christmas morning.